


Good Boy

by BeautyInChains



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry is a human vibrator, Coming In Pants, Frottage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Praise Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 16:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5056267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautyInChains/pseuds/BeautyInChains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A private training session leaves our heroes feeling a little hot and bothered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own a thing. This fic is unbeta'd and all errors are my own. Comments and con crit are welcome. I hope you enjoy!

“We’re done now, right? Please say we’re done now.” 

Barry is looking at Oliver with those huge, deep puppy dog eyes of his, pink lips forming a pout. The whole thing should look ridiculous with his mask on, and the fact that it doesn’t probably says something about how fucking gone Oliver is for the kid, but he can’t bring himself to care.

There’s a flush on Barry’s cheeks and sheen of sweat on his exposed skin from the exertion of their training session and the only thing Oliver can think about is how badly he wants to clean Barry off from head to toe with his tongue. The column of his throat, his clavicles, his pectorals, his delicious abdominals, and lower still…

Oliver’s closing the space between them, hands on Barry’s hips backing him into the wall. He hits it with a gasp, allows Oliver’s body to melt into his, holding him in place. Barry’s panting softly, his own hands twitching at his sides, hips shifting restlessly against Oliver’s and yeah, that does something for him. Barry’s hands find Oliver’s chest and he tugs helplessly at the green fabric as he gives a little rut against the Arrow.

“Ollie, please.”

Oliver leans in close, lips ghosting against the flesh of Barry’s cheek. “Say it again.”

“Fuck, please, please, please.” God, Oliver shivers. Barry sounds so pretty like this, looks so pretty. He pushes his hips against Barry’s, lets the boy feel how hard he’s getting. Barry, on the other hand, is beyond hard already. He feels like steel against Oliver. It makes him wonder how wet Barry is; no one has ever gotten as wet for him as Barry has, cock fucking dripping. Oliver loves to suck him off for that very reason, loves to collect every drop of thick fluid from Barry’s cock, loves to swallow him down until Barry comes white hot down his throat and then do it all over again.

Oliver moans as he captures Barry’s lips viciously. Barry whimpers into the kiss, tongue finding Oliver’s desperately. Oliver takes Barry’s hands without breaking the kiss and pins them above his head. He pulls back, biting at Barry’s abused bottom lip.

“There’s something I want you to do for me, Barry. Can you be a good boy and listen?”

Barry’s eyes are fucking blown, glassy as he tries to focus on Oliver’s words. He nods vaguely, fingers flexing uselessly against Oliver’s grip.

“I want you to get yourself off, just like this,” he says, voice rough and low as he rocks his cock against Barry’s, “I want to watch you fall apart.” Barry trembles against him.

“Oliver, I don’t think I-ah!” Barry cries out as Oliver bites down on his throat.

“I think you can. You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

Barry doesn’t answer this time, just shifts against Oliver until their cocks are pressed together. Barry’s back bows as he begins to rut against Oliver. Within minutes he’s a shivering, mewling mess against the Arrow. Oliver’s feeling breathless himself as he takes in Barry’s lithe form writhing against him. He can see Barry’s cock straining against the front of his suit and watches intently as it glides against his over and over again.

Oliver growls as Barry’s head snaps back, eyes rolling into the back of his head. He whines as Oliver releases his wrists, but his protests cease as Oliver rips away the red mask and sucks at the sweat along his jaw. He tongues at Barry’s ear. “Are you getting close?” he murmurs, “Are you going to come for me? God, I want you to. Want to watch you make a big fucking mess inside your suit.”

Just like that something inside Barry seems to snap and then he’s vibrating. Oliver moans, a high, broken sound of surprise and pleasure as the sensations go straight to his cock. Oliver, in his haze, recognizes that he’s lost control of the situation, but he couldn’t give a fuck right now. He’s suddenly so close to coming he’s not sure who’s going to get there first.

Barry’s vibrations pick up speed before everything stops, “Ollie, God, fuck!”

Barry’s eyes slam shut, brows knitting, lips parting on a moan as his body jerks hard, strong vibrations pulsing through him as he spurts into his suit. Oliver can’t stand it, his name on Barry’s lips or the sensation of his lover’s body surging against his own. Oliver’s fingers find Barry’s jaw, gripping firmly and tilting his head back down, “Look at me.”  
Barry’s lashes flutter against his warm, red cheeks as his eyes open. Oliver thumbs at Barry’s bottom lip and their eyes lock as the younger man’s tongue flicks out against the rough pad of the Arrow’s thumb. Oliver crowds in closer against Barry’s body, rocks harder against him as he smears a glossy string of saliva across Barry’s lips.

“C’mon,” Barry murmurs, voice wavering in the aftershocks of his orgasm, “You’re so close, Ollie. I was such a good boy for you, wasn’t I? Just like you told me to be. It’s your turn.” Barry nips at Oliver’s thumb and then it’s all over.

Oliver crushes his lips against Barry’s, teeth drawing blood as his body seizes and then he’s coming hot and hard into his suit, flooding it as his cock throbs. He feels Barry’s hand trail down his chest to his cock where it twitches feebly at the younger man’s touch. Barry breaks the kiss with a hiss, tongue playing against the cut on his lip as he strokes his hands down Oliver’s strong arms with reverence, “So fucking hot, Oliver. Jesus Christ.”

Oliver can’t help the rough bark of laughter that escapes him as Barry presses against him. He’s hard again already, body still humming with arousal, “What I am going to do with you, hmm?”

“Take me home.”

Oliver leans in, skims his tongue against Barry’s cut teasingly, “Have we forgotten our manners?”

“Take me home, please.”

“Good boy.”


End file.
